When Sif Met Bucky
by coldfusion9797
Summary: Sif's latest duty sees her helping one of Thor's friends. Though no one thought to tell her just what a jerk he is. Set post Civil War. Part four of Avengers on Asgard series. Bucky/Sif


What nonsensical thing had Thor gone and done now?

Sif was on her way to the training grounds because she had been asked by the healers, as a personal favour to Thor, to assist in the rehabilitation of one of his Midgardian friends.

The man had lost an arm in battle and between the smiths and the healers they'd been able to harness technology similar to that of the Destroyer to replace the missing limb.

Sif didn't really understand Thor's fascination with mortals. They were weak and fragile and fleeting. What was the appeal of someone you could crush with one touch? Someone who would be dead in a mere century? It defied any sound reasoning.

She was at least pleased to see that he was already waiting for her. She'd chosen this place in the eventuality that he excelled, but didn't really expect any significant results today, he was only human after all.

He had his back to her as she approached, giving her a moment to assess him. His brown hair was long and pulled back in a ponytail. He had broad shoulders (not as broad as Thor) and was taller than her (but not as tall as Thor). He wore Asgardian clothing, which helped but she still felt a measure of disinclination towards him. Mortals did not belong here. Jane Foster had been able to do nothing but stand helplessly by as Frigga was slain.

"James Barnes?" she addressed formerly as she strode confidently towards him. At the sound of her voice he turned and... oh. He was striking. In a Midgardian sort of way she reminded herself. Not her type at all. His eyes were blue (not bright sky blue like Thor's) but the cooler blue of a bottomless mountain pool, and she was shocked to realise she might prefer them. They were eyes you could blissfully drown in... She straightened her shoulders and pushed the ridiculous thought away.

"Hi," he smiled, with full, lush lips, before looking her up and down and shattering her recently formed good opinion of him. "Whoa, gorgeous. They didn't tell me that therapy would be so easy on the eye." Sif rolled her eyes, so he was a man just like all the rest.

"I fail to see how that is relevant to the situation."

"Doesn't hurt though, does it?" he countered, and then he winked. Would Thor really mind if she just killed him here and now and be done with it? Likely he would. She sighed.

"I am Sif. And I've been asked to help you. If we could concentrate on the task at hand."

"Yep, sure. Anything you say sweetheart."

"Firstly James, my name is Sif. Now, how has your recovery been so far?"

"Exceptionally dull until now, beautiful."

Sif sighed. Again. She was not a stranger to such behaviour.

"I have asked you nicely and I can see I'm going to have to employ other methods to get my point across." She had absolutely no qualms about using physical violence to express her point. She'd spent a lot of time with Fandral, sometimes such tactics were necessary to earn a man's respect and physically Barnes was fully fit. She was here to instruct him on use of the arm, not aid his recovery.

Sif struck out and was taken completely by surprise. Barnes was fast. And strong. She'd meant to sweep his legs out from under him and sit him on his rear end to teach him a lesson in humility but he countered her attack, and managed to get her on her back in the dirt. Now he was on top of her. It was mortifying to say the least. Apart from the fact that he was mortal, he only had one functioning arm.

"You are human," she uttered in shock, looking up into those mesmerising eyes, aware that those luscious lips that were only inches from her own.

"Oh I'm more than that sweetheart. And it's Bucky, not James."

"Well," Sif sniffed, doing her utmost to remain dignified whilst being pinned beneath him, "we are not long acquainted so I shall continue to call you James."

"Something else for us to work on then," he allowed, standing up and pulling her with him. She batted him away and brushed off her clothes.

"I doubt we'll ever be that well acquainted."

"We'll see," he laughed, much to her irritation, though she was determined to rise above it for Thor's sake.

"Now that you've got that little display out of your system, shall we begin?"

"I thought you'd never ask," he grinned.

"Very well," she nodded, resolving to entirely ignore any further taunts from him. The quicker they got through this, the sooner she could leave.

She began with a description of how the limb worked, of which he did at least appear to pay attention.

"It's not physically attached to your nerve endings, the arm is hollow and virtually indestructible," not unlike the rest of him she thought, "but it will respond to your thoughts, you just have to learn how to focus them and bend it to your will. As the interior of the arm is free of any mechanics, you must fill it with your intent. Eventually you will not need to think about it. Now make a fist. Imagine what you want your fingers to do and see them doing it, they will follow."

Barnes stared down at his metallic hand with no result.

"Nothing," he huffed, giving up much too soon in her opinion.

"It requires conviction. You must be fully committed to your actions." For an instant she thought of Loki, and how he had been fully committed to murdering Thor in New Mexico. It was disturbing to consider that level of hatred so she did not dwell on it.

"What is it?" Barnes questioned, apparently sensing her momentary distraction.

"Nothing of consequence," she dismissed. "Try again."

He made another half-hearted attempt.

"Still nothing," he pouted, not that she was looking at his mouth.

"You're not concentrating," Sif chided, equally frustrated with both of them, and eager to get the whole thing over and done with. He was insufferable.

She drew her sword, keeping the blade retracted, and slid the handle into his palm, cupping the back of his hand with her own.

"Just close your fingers around it," she instructed.

She helped him by beginning to manoeuvre them into place, easing the pressure as they slowly folded over of their own accord until he was in control.

"You know," he commented, looking at her instead of the progress they were making. "I'm not sure this is the best way to get me to focus on rehab."

"No?" she said, smiling down to where he gripped the weapon unassisted.

"Well how about that? It worked. Guess you know what you're doing after all."

With her eyes fixed on his, suddenly she couldn't breathe, she was drowning in those bottomless blue pools. As they gazed at each other a flesh and blood thumb brushed over her lips and then she was being kissed. Skilfully and thoroughly. She felt light as a feather and tingly all over, and then the press of cold metal on her cheek brought her to her senses. Yggdrasil's roots! What was wrong with her? She was allowing herself to be seduced! She wasn't some wilting maiden, she was a fierce and formidable warrior! It was unacceptable.

She lashed out and shoved him away.

"Get off me you disgusting bilgesnipe!"

He stumbled back with the force of her blow, loose strands of hair falling across his face, confusion and annoyance in his eyes when they snapped up to meet her own.

"What the hell is a bilgesnipe?!"

"A loathsome creature that does not know how to control itself. What did you think you were doing?" Sif demanded.

"Focusing on what I wanted and fully committing."

"Oh please," she spat. "You are a vile, artless thing and I will not be subjected to your ill-mannered flirtations." With her case clearly stated, she turned and left him to rehabilitate on his own.

"Same time tomorrow then?" he had the audacity to call after her. Perhaps he had sustained injuries to more than just his arm if he seriously believed that.


End file.
